PHANTOM RULER'S THRONE V:

Eyes of the Devil

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"Why are you even alive?!"

"Right! You're bringing bad luck to the rest of us!"

Little Raeve lay on his right side, small hands shielding his head as he curled into a ball, his body too numb to feel the rough surface of the cold, dirty pavement. Another kick hit his back, and Raeve could only muffle his cries, lest he give the bad kids more reason to hit him. What did he do wrong, anyway?

Oh, right.

He was born.

"Hey, it's getting late. The others are already gathering in the Centro." It was Juel who spoke-one of the bigger kids who pushed Raeve around.

"The freak isn't fun to beat anymore."

One last kick to his bent legs, and the dual-colored-haired boy heard their footsteps slowly fade into the silence of the night. His whole body ached as he stretched his limbs, though he remained lying on his side a little longer.

Raeve had learned to survive the beatings long ago after the matron of the orphanage kicked him out when he turned eight. Old enough to fend for himself, they said. He had wondered why, since the matron usually made the older kids leave when they turned thirteen. He was confused-he was still too young. His right side burned with pain, and his stomach felt funny again.

He continued lying on the pavement for as long as he could, embracing the peace that the coldness of spring brought as it touched the branches of the trees of Auxiviel. He was getting sleepy. All he wanted was to curl up somewhere warm, close his eyes, and take a nap, but the beating had been harsher this time.

He could feel the bruises quickly forming on his skin, the burning, prickly sensation seeping deep into his bones. Still, he was quite thankful the other kids had made sure to hit his right side more. He knew the scratches and bruises would be gone in a couple of minutes, though the excruciating pain made it hard to breathe. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, slowly rolling down the side of his face onto the cold pavement.

"Raeve!"

Bound by pain, Raeve couldn't even respond to the familiar voice calling his name. The distressed voice of a girl rang in his ears. A little far, if his guess was correct, but drawing closer. Perhaps she was running.

True to his guess, frantic footsteps echoed in the air before halting, followed by a choked gasp.

"Raeve!"

The next thing he knew, he was being rolled onto his back, warm hands touching his aching arm. His vision was blurred by tears, and the darkness didn't help him see the face of the person properly. But he knew all too well who the girl sitting on the pavement next to him was.

"Shaan?" he breathed out with the tiniest bit of strength left in him. He blinked away the tears, allowing himself a clearer look at the girl's frowning face.

"What did I tell you about going out alone at night?!" Rashaan screamed, her voice filled with anger, though Raeve could see the moonlight glinting off the little bit of water in her pinkish eyes. Her white hair hovered, almost covering her face, yet the snarl on her lips was not concealed.

Raeve counted it as another unlucky occurrence. He had intended to stay lying on that cold pavement until his bruises and scratches healed on their own before walking back. That was why he had made sure to expose his right side more. After all, his left side didn't heal as fast as the other. Now, Rashaan could see the blooming blues and violets scattered across his pale skin-skin that never tanned, no matter how much time he spent under the sun, begging on the streets.

He knew he couldn't stand properly because of the overwhelming pain, let alone walk back to their little home. He was about to tell Rashaan to go, to leave him there-he'd walk back on his own once he was capable. But before he could even open his mouth, he felt the girl lie down next to him, draping an arm over his chest as she patted him in a slow, steady rhythm.

Rashaan filled the air with her quiet humming. A lullaby they always heard from the night singer at a tavern in the town square. They begged there sometimes. On lucky nights, they got to eat-some nobles tossed them scraps of food. On unlucky ones, they got beaten. Rashaan always knew when to flee, when to grab his hand and run before they crossed paths with someone having a bad night.

Unknowingly, Raeve felt a stream of tears running down his temples, though no sound escaped his lips. The night was cold, and the breeze made him shiver now and then, but Rashaan was warm enough. Her palm soothed his discomfort, tricking his mind into believing he was home.

He was home.

~~~

"Ahh~ I had forgotten the feeling of being this full."

Raeve and Lionel trudged down the road of a busy street near the middle of the capital's Centro, just as they always did every day, looking for ways to make money to sustain their lives. The place was more enthusiastic and noisier than usual, although, in Raeve's opinion, it had always been chaotic, especially after the tyrant king was ousted from his position. Auxiviel, being a closed country, did not have a reputation to maintain, and the locals simply did whatever they pleased among themselves.

However, even a clueless child could notice the drastic change in the atmosphere. The people looked less ragged and unfriendly, although many still carried an air of misery. Raeve even felt that everything seemed worse than usual. It was as though the chaos had been forcefully masked with suffering.

"We have enough money to get by without working ourselves to the bone, Little Lion. So why are you still following me and not resting at home with the younger ones?" Raeve asked with an easy smile, glancing at the younger boy, who was carefreely rubbing his stomach like a pregnant lady. Well, he did look pregnant. It would be a surprise if his belly didn't bloat from all the food he had gulped down during breakfast.

All thanks to the mysterious lady-Lady Anastasia-Raeve had been able to spend a generous amount on food, surprising the little ones when they came home. He was also planning on buying thicker clothes and good blankets so they wouldn't shiver when the colder nights arrived. They had enough to last them for a while, and he would make sure to find a way to keep them comfortable for as long as he could.

"I told you! The king brought home a noble lady from another country. I heard they're in front of the temple, giving out free meals," Lionel answered enthusiastically. He was plenty curious about the noble lady. After all, he was too young when the country was declared closed by the royal family-before he was even born. Who could blame any of them for wanting to catch a glimpse of a foreigner they would likely never see again?

And so, Raeve gave up on sending the young boy home, seeing how determined he was to see the noble lady their king had brought to their homeland. Of course, Raeve had also heard about it. Word traveled fast, and gossip traveled faster. And in Midmire, no one kept their mouth shut-unless it was to keep their head attached to their neck.

He had heard that the teleportation gate malfunctioned, preventing some of the envoys from crossing before it closed. The palace knights weren't exactly tight-lipped about something they shouldn't have been talking about.

Raeve wondered if the malfunction was a natural incident or if the mysterious duo they had met the night before had something to do with it. It wouldn't be too far-fetched-perhaps they had used it as a distraction to sneak in.

"Wow. Lots of people here today," Raeve heard Lionel comment as they reached the crowd near the temple, where many citizens had gathered.

Raeve was careful not to stand out too much, though he still caught a few lingering looks from people he didn't bother acknowledging. He and Lionel settled on standing at the side, not too close to the crowd where some priests were distributing bowls of poorly made soup. A number of imperial knights loitered nearby, forming a barrier of bodies around a certain someone.

Oh, and would you look at that? It was the noble lady everyone had been gossiping about.

The moment Raeve laid eyes on her, he understood why the king was so adamant about parading her around like a trophy.

Clear crimson eyes and long dark hair that could blend with the night.

Raeve instinctively brought a hand to his face, his fingers trembling as they touched his albino side.

It would be a dishonor to call her anything less than magnificent, though even that word didn't do her justice. She looked like a porcelain figure-poised, perfect, and unblemished. Her skin could rival ivory and milk. Raeve could tell that everyone shared his sentiment by the way they gazed at her with awe, especially the elderly.

"An Arkwright, eh? It seems the foolish king has finally decided to do something right for once."

Raeve's ears perked up at the statement. He looked to his right and found the source of the voice-an old man who looked as though he was only a few steps away from death, time having left its mark on his flaky, wrinkled skin.

The bi-colored-haired boy commended the old man for his bravery. It wasn't a secret that a portion of the population disliked the current king, even though he had helped overthrow a greedy tyrant. The older folks often voiced their distaste for the young ruler, though never so blatantly as to say it in the presence of the king himself-or his army of knights sworn to protect him and his honor.

No matter how true, blasphemy was blasphemy, and it would not go unpunished.

Raeve thought that perhaps fear faded as one neared the goddess, but he wasn't sure. He valued his life far too much and would definitely fear death for many decades to come.

"Do you think the king will make her our queen?" Lionel asked, never tearing his gaze from the beautiful lady surrounded by knights.

"Nothing is for sure," Raeve responded. He wanted to add that the noble lady could surely find a better marriage partner than their king, but he decided against saying it out loud.

"But she looks so in love with him! See how her eyes haven't left His Majesty?" the younger boy remarked, pointing out how the lady's gaze remained fixed on the king, who was speaking to his aide a few steps away from her.

"I don't think you can call that the look of love," Raeve shrugged. Sure, the lady seemed as though she could gaze at the young ruler all day. However, Raeve felt there was something more to her stare than what others perceived.

His thoughts were interrupted by multiple gasps from the crowd.

A boy had already been pinned to the ground by the king's aide, and no one-absolutely no one-dared to step up or say a word. Silence engulfed them, as if even breathing too loudly might draw the attention of the mauve-haired ruler.

And good heavens, they were all terrified as the king dismissed his aide and helped the boy to his feet, dusting off his clothes like a kind, affectionate grown-up. The poor, clueless lady watched with soft eyes, unaware that if she weren't present, the bastard of a king would have beheaded the child himself.

Raeve almost laughed to himself.

So this was how he intended to court the foreign noble-by not just putting on a mask, but morphing into an entirely different person just to please her. That was something.

Everyone knew King Cartal was fairly smart. It was just that he was crazy. A person who is too smart goes crazy over time, but a person who is plenty crazy loses their smarts along with their rationality.

Their king was playing a game-a childish, dangerous game.

But who could blame him?

Their country had a twisted set of standards. Eyes the color of blood, hair the color of the night. People had sold their souls to obtain those in the past.

They failed, of course.

Raeve could never understand how a person's failure could make another's life a living hell-so much so that perhaps death would have been the better option.

~~~

"You devils! Do not ever come back here! You are ruining my business!"

Raeve clutched Rashaan's hand tightly as the girl pulled him along, running away from the bakery where they had just stolen a loaf of bread. It was owned by a mean old man who never hesitated to be violent whenever he caught a dirty kid getting too close. He was even fiercer toward kids like them. Devils, he called them.

It was a normal day-at least, in the life of devil-borns. Raeve had learned quickly after Rashaan pitied him enough to take him in when she found him wandering around Midmire alone, beaten and bloodied after being seen by a bunch of drunks who had nothing better to do.

The girl was only three years older than he was, with a thin frame like any other orphan abandoned in Oakcross. Still, she had taught him a lot and helped him survive each day in a world that wanted them dead.

"I told you not to go near the pretty displays. Those are expensive! The old man would have chased us down with a knife if you had touched those. We only take the cheap ones," Rashaan scolded him when they reached the rundown shack they called home.

It hardly seemed like a suitable place for anyone to enter, let alone sleep in. However, they had learned to count their blessings. It was lucky they had been able to take refuge in that little shack before any of the other homeless kids found it. They stayed away once they realized it was home to two devil-borns.

"Sorry, Shaan..." Raeve muttered, his stomach churning as he looked at the darkening bruise forming on Rashaan's cheek-one that hadn't been there before they left. She had shielded him from the old man earlier when he was caught staring at the fancy pastries displayed in front of the bakery.

"Forget it. Just eat," the girl dismissed his apology. Still, Raeve knew her concern did not simply show in her words-she acted on it.

Raeve had just turned nine, and by then, he had long understood why everyone seemed to despise them as though they were criminals worthy of death. Rashaan was the one who had told him after countless times he had tried to get closer to the other kids, no matter how often they beat him up for it. He still remembered how burning tears had made the girl's pinkish eyes glossy while she shouted at him so loudly.

They could not rely on anyone but themselves. They were not wanted in that place.

Then, she told him about the royal family's obsession with certain features that no one in their country had. The royals practically never considered marrying anyone who didn't have dark hair. They were adamant about having heirs with black hair-not that it was such a rare trait, of course. Raeve had seen many people with it.

However, not once in his life had he ever seen anyone with blood-red eyes.

The previous kings had searched far and wide for someone who possessed such a trait. They had declared that anyone with this feature would be granted the chance to choose a member of the royal family to marry. Nobles, commoners, peasants-it did not matter. They were desperate to the point of insanity.

Of course, there were also those who were desperate for a life of luxury, willing to do anything to grasp it. If it could not be obtained through natural means, then forcing it was the next option.

Using magic, people consumed by their desperation did everything they could to create children who possessed the traits the royal family sought. They resorted to ingesting dangerous potions and casting forbidden spells to achieve their goal.

However, none of them succeeded. All the infants born through these methods had no pigment in their entire bodies-white hair, white skin, not a trace of the dark hair they had hoped for. Their eyes were pink, some darker than others, but none red enough to be called a perfect outcome.

Rumors spread that the parents of these children had sold their souls to the devil in exchange for power. And before long, those children were regarded as devil-borns-shunned wherever they went, hated simply for existing. The poor victims of their parents' mistakes were forced to live lives filled with nothing but misfortune. Some chose to end their own lives, praying that in the next, they would be born normal.

~~~

"Good evening, mi'lady!"

Avy was not too startled by Raeve's greeting that came out of nowhere; rather, she was actually impressed by how nimble his feet were. She turned to him without returning his enthusiasm, her eyes searching for the presence of the little child who had been with him the last time they met.

"Hm. Not stealing in tandem this time?" she asked, to which Raeve responded with a mischievous smile, not offended in the slightest.

"No stealing tonight, my dear client. My attention is solely on the task at hand," he answered, bowing dramatically, making Avy let out a slightly amused huff. Being forced to train as a child soldier by a deranged king must have done a lot to him to take his humor away. As far as she could remember, he was written so aloofly in the book that his presence was barely known. It was a far cry from the boy who oozed charisma as a business dealer.

"Funny brat," Ares commented from the side. He was still munching on a boiled sweet potato he had bought somewhere while Avy was not paying attention. She simply rolled her eyes and decided to leave him to his own devices.

"I was born to entertain, Sir," Raeve replied with a curve in his lips, earning an acknowledging nod from Avy's cursed servant.

Ares had been expressing his wariness of the younger boy and insisted that he should be present physically and not simply watch from the sidelines. Avy just let him, of course. She was not too careless to roam around a crime-infested place with only a young teenage boy who looked like he could be body-slammed to the ground with little to no difficulty. Ares-although not visibly buff with muscle like trained knights-was actually taller than most people, standing over six feet.

"Shall we go?" Raeve offered, to which Avy responded with an affirming look, gesturing with a turn of her head for him to lead the way. The boy was very much willing to oblige, taking a step first, with Avy and Ares following his example.

The town square was as busy as it had been the previous night. Avy could feel her energy spiking due to the amount of magic stones littered everywhere. Glancing at her cursed servant, who was practically basking in everything he could absorb, she wondered if his reason for accompanying her was truly for her safety or if it was the unbelievable amount of mana he could steal from the bustling place.

As they continued to walk, Avy noticed how a number of people looked at the boy ahead of them with faces filled with different emotions, so clearly hinted at. Some eyed the bi-colored-haired boy with disgust before stepping away from his path as though they would catch some kind of disease if their skin touched. Some looked at him with fear, whispering amongst themselves like they were watching some kind of criminal on his walk of shame. Some glared at him in hatred, and Avy swore that if looks could kill, the boy would be on the ground, choking on air.

Of course, not everyone paid him attention, so it did not cause a scene in the middle of the town square, where most people were minding their own business. Still, Avy did not feel happy with the looks.

She glanced at the boy, whose head did not lower no matter how many people eyed him with malice in their gaze. She remained silent, seeing how he took the treatment with nerves of steel-until a man bumped into him with so much force that he stumbled back a couple of steps.

The man, too focused on drilling holes into the boy, did not notice that Avy was only a short distance behind Raeve and slammed into her as well, causing her to almost lose her balance if not for Ares steadying her.

"Hey! Watch where-!"

The man's angry shout was halted after he got a closer look at Avy and at Ares, who towered behind her like a guard dog. The curse was definitely a lot taller than the man and obviously packed with more muscle. With his dark eyes and murderous glare, the man who had the audacity to be the one getting angry now cowered in fear.

"How about I cut your throat open? That would be fun, yes?" Ares threatened, and the idiot of a man stepped back, trembling.

"I-I apologize, Sir-"

"Leave." With venom in her voice, Avy stared down at the man. Not even a second later, he was running away, tail tucked behind his legs.

Raeve, who had a look of horror displayed on his face, quickly regained his composure. However, he clutched his side where he had been hit, his expression twitching-although barely noticeable.

"Are you alright, my lady? I am terribly sorry-"

"Save it. Keep walking," Avy demanded, and the boy simply nodded and followed without another word.

The number of stares dwindled as they walked farther from the bustling crowd of the town square. The boy led them to a much poorer part of the city, where little noise of joy could be heard.

There was laughter, yes, but it sounded disturbing-faint screams, begging, and crying followed. The place was by no means as loud as the centro. However, due to the buildings being so closely packed together, all the noises from every open establishment blended into a chaotic mess.

Avy imagined dark movies filmed in crime-infested areas swarming with sick-in-the-head people. This place was worse.

"This is Midmire. Please be careful. Do not make eye contact with anyone. Do not give away that this is your first time stepping into this place. And, my lady-..."

Raeve cut his own statement short, clicking his tongue. He was standing closer than before, his voice hushed. If Avy did not have impeccable hearing, she would have missed every word that came out of his mouth.

"Boss..." he continued, as if calling her "my lady" was now unfitting, though he had wholeheartedly addressed her as such only seconds ago.

"Please stay close to Sir Ares. This place does not see a woman... It sees a chance to do sick things."

Avy understood immediately what he meant and pulled the hood of her cloak lower to hide her face. She was fairly tall even for her age and gender, and the fabric of her clothes concealed her body well. However, any person who dared to get closer would notice that she was, in fact, a woman.

They continued walking. Fortunately, the people loitering around minded their own business. They passed through quietly without getting into trouble. Occasionally, they saw petty drunken fights that would likely end with at least one person dead. However, they kept their gazes straight and decided against intervening.

Avy knew it was cold and somewhat heartless, but she also understood that she did not possess some kind of magical luck that would save her from those situations. She was not this world's protagonist, and she could only afford to be a goody-two-shoes when the odds were in her favor. She was in an unfamiliar country with nothing but a single knight and two curses keeping her safe. It did not help that she was not as adept in magic as the rest of the world, which had years of experience under its belt.

She was not naive. More accurately, she did not have the heart of a saint, unlike the novel's protagonist, who valued others more than her own life. Avy had her own life to live, important things to lose, and goals to achieve. She could not throw herself into harm's way just because she saw a stranger-who had chosen to ruin their life in a fucked-up place-getting beaten to death.

Avy never was a good person in the first place.

She simply did what would cause her the least amount of guilt and stress without compromising her comfort. She weighed her choices rationally, never losing sight of logic. Though she could admit that all that logic got thrown out the window when a certain person was involved. How laughable-for one so-called prodigal girl-to abandon reason in a heartbeat.

"Your disguise is slipping. I feel you."

Avy was pulled out of her trance by Ares whispering lowly in her mind-not to be discreet, as they were not being heard by anyone, but as though to avoid startling her.

She collected herself, realizing they were entering a darker alley leading to a quieter establishment.

Inside, it was a silent bar that served drinks. Avy noticed how none of the patrons raised their voices, only conversing in hushed tones and preserving the serenity of the dimly lit place.

Raeve ushered them toward the counter, where an elderly woman sat, next to her a young man cleaning glass cups.

Seeing them up close, with a clearer light aiding her sight, Avy was surprised by the old woman's characteristics.

Her eye sockets were empty. Her hair was white-not the typical gray naturally acquired with age.

Yet, as Avy stepped closer, she was certain that the old woman was staring directly at her, analyzing her soul as though laying her bare.

"Eve, darling boy. What brings you in this place?" The woman finally stared into space, like any normal person with no eyes, with nothing in particular to focus their gaze on.

"I am here for a job, of course," Raeve answered sheepishly, the easiness in his voice evident. He glanced at Avy for a moment before looking back at the old woman.

"My client right here would like to find some people," he said as he gestured Avy and Ares to sit on the high chairs made for guests. Raeve himself settled on one comfortably.

The eye-less woman once again found Avy, smiling uncannily. "My, my~ what a lovely lady, with a particularly marvelous set of eyes," she praised.

"Lovely color," the old lady added.

"Thank you," Avy responded, barely concealing a frown. Her appearance should be different, she made sure to keep the spell in tact.

By Raeve's treatment of her, she was certain that her disguise did not drop. She simply hoped that the old lady loved the color of gold, pertaining to the color she picked to change her eyes into.

"Like rubies."

****

Ayooo I DID NOT proof read this garadge lol. I'm so sorry, I am really depressed right now. I might write more chapters since I'm contemplating my life. I'm currently going through a very rough patch and I don't know what to do. I will be updating again since I've locked myself up in my room and deactivated all my social media so nothing to do except to write tbh